My mother died last year

My grief has not yet healed

Her last years were difficult 

The task of sorting her possessions
    was left to me

I sit in her kitchen

I look around with heavy heart

I begin the process

I pick up her scarves; they are
    soft and colorful

A sharp contrast to my mom

She was a complicated woman
    with simple needs

She had many fears that ruled 
    her life

She had many loves
    her church, her children, her husband

I walk through her house and slowly
    pick up items that she once held

Some must be discarded. I find that
     a painful thought

But I must remember: they aren't 
     part of her, they never were

Still, I feel that she is part of 
     them some how

I hold each piece in my hand, turn it 
     over and hold it close

I cannot finish this today

I'll come back tomorrow